


Welcome to Your Legacy

by clgfanfic, JodyNorman



Series: The Legacy [14]
Category: Poltergeist: The Legacy, The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2086830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JodyNorman/pseuds/JodyNorman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair starts to work for the Legacy and his first assignment leads to interesting realizations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Your Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Sensory Overload #7
> 
> The true author of this story is clgfanfic, but we agreed to post it as part of this series.

## The loft

**July 7 th, 7:00 a.m.**

 

          "Sandburg!" Jim called, looking at his watch. "I'm gonna to be late here, Chief!"

          "Coming, coming!" Blair yelled from his room. He hurried out, backpack swinging from one shoulder. "Sorry, man. I had to find all the paperwork the university gave me to fill out for the appointment, and it was scattered all over the place."

          Jim's expression shifted from annoyed to amused. Sandburg had been even less organized than usual of late, but then, starting several new jobs at the same time could do that to a man. "Come on," he said kindly, resting a hand on the younger man's shoulder and starting him toward the door. "Simon's going to chew my ass if I'm late this morning."

          "I appreciate you dropping me off," Blair said as he followed the detective out of the loft, then pulled the door closed behind him. He was already building a mental list of all the things he needed to do when he got to the university, and the first was call to see if his car was ready to pick up from the shop.

          "No problem," Jim replied.

          Blair held his tongue until they were in Jim's new truck and on their way, then asked, "So, you want me to stop by the station when I'm done at Rainier?"

          Jim shook his head, saying, "No, don't worry about it, Chief. We're just going to lay out a strategy on how to go after Orin DeLay."

          "The developer?" Blair asked, surprised.

          "Yeah, and believe me, he makes Murdock – Remember him? – look like a good Samaritan."

"Let's see – fast train, stupid accountant, beautiful woman, lots of guns, and you, tripping on cold medicine, oh yeah, I remember the Murdock case," Blair replied with a shudder. "I read in the paper that DeLay's been buying up depressed properties all over Cascade, but I thought he wanted to turn them all into multi-use communities that included homes for low-income families. He did the same thing in Seattle and Portland, right? I mean, that doesn't sound so bad on the surface, but I know a lot of people who are really upset that he's planning to develop the Mt. Glory area along with the North Cannery neighborhood. That's such a beautiful area, I know I'd hate to see it end up covered with condos."

"Yeah, that's all true," Jim agreed. "But get this; it's not as good as it sounds. Once DeLay finishes with these supposedly socially-conscious communities, he's been selling them to off-shore multi-nationals who raise the rents, or secure the mortgages, and drive the poor out after a couple of years, so he's not doing anyone any favors. He's also been using sub-standard building materials, skirting or breaking union laws, and buying off a lot of politicians along the way. Three people have been killed and several others injured – all tied to his projects. Both the Seattle and Portland PDs think there's probably more they don't know about, but they can't prove anything."

"And now he's in Cascade trying to pull off the same scam?"

"You've got it. But a Cascade legislator lost his son when a DeLay building partially collapsed in Seattle. He tried going to State Attorney General, but that didn't get him anywhere, so now he's putting pressure on the Cascade City Council, and they're putting pressure on the Mayor, and he's passing it along to the Chief, who handed it off to Simon."

"Trickle down stress," Blair acknowledged with an understanding nod. "So not cool."

"Yeah, well, it's landing on the rest of Major Crimes today."

"Great," Blair said, then turned to look at Jim, asking, "Does this mean you're not going to be able to make it to the meet-and-greet when they open the new Cascade Legacy House?"

Jim glanced over at Sandburg, asking, "When is that?"

"This evening," Blair reminded him.

His attention back on the traffic, Jim said, "I honestly don't know. I guess it'll depend on what we have from the Seattle and Portland PDs, and how the brainstorming goes. I should know by late this afternoon. I'll give you a call."

"It'd be nice if you could go," Blair said, his tone hopeful. "But I understand you might not be able to."

Jim glanced at Blair again, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're really worried about this, aren't you?"

Blair grinned sheepishly in reply. "Yeah, I guess I am," he admitted. "A little, at least. I mean, I'll be meeting the people I'll be working with, seeing the House for the first time, it's all a little overwhelming actually…"

"Think you're going to have time to work for the Legacy, _and_ the university?"

Blair shrugged. "I think so. I'm only teaching one class, and it's for grad students, so it only meets once a week. And even though I'll be doing research for Dr. Greyson, my time's completely flexible. Derek didn't think it should be a problem when I talked to him about it. And don't worry, I'll still have time to help you out when you need it too. I'm only a phone call away."

The detective laughed softly. "I don't know, Sandburg. Sounds to me like you're starting a career here, and–"

"Jim," Blair interrupted, "first and foremost I'm your Guide. That's been my priority since we met, and it's _not_ changing now – understand?"

"Is Rayne going to be here for this party thing?" Jim asked, changing the subject.

Blair rolled his eyes and said, "Yeah, but none of the others could get away. I guess they've got something going on back in San Francisco. Too bad, too. I was looking forward to seeing Nick and Alex again."

Jim nodded. "Like I said, I'll do my best, but no promises."

"Fair enough," Blair agreed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## LeDay Industries' Mt. Glory construction site

**9:00 a.m.**

 

          Adam McCouch walked across the small section of the construction site where they'd actually been able to begin work. The land was stretched out along the western base of Mt. Glory, and heavily wooded. He was looking for the "dead bodies" one of his bulldozer operators said he'd unearthed an hour earlier.

McCouch shook his head as he stomped along. It was just one more thing for him to add to the growing list of accidents, mishaps and other assorted weirdness that had plagued the site since they'd started work. The experienced foreman had been in the construction business for almost thirty years, and he'd never seen a project as riddled with problems as this one. If he could afford it, he'd just quit and go fishing for a couple of weeks to decompress. But he couldn't afford it.

          He spotted a red flag someone had stuck into the ground a ways off and quickened his pace. He'd already lost two of his better men to accidents – one now permanently disabled, the other refusing to come back to the site – which had never happened to him before. He ran a tight operation, always had and always would. But DeLay was pushing his limits with unrealistic deadlines and money that meant McCouch could only hire a minimum crew. Still, he'd gotten through similar jobs in the past, and without anyone getting hurt.

But, worst of all in the foreman's opinion was the fact that the remaining men were already starting to talk about the location being jinxed or cursed. McCouch dismissed the chatter as irrational fear getting the upper hand. If anything was wrong, it was sloppy work habits and a boss who wanted too much, too quickly. He could do something about the first, but not the latter.

          He stopped when he reached the flag and bent over to get a closer look. "I'll be a son-of-a-bitch," he said under his breath, reaching out to poke at the half-buried human skull sticking up out of the dirt. Glancing around, he spotted other bone fragments close by, along with bits and pieces of other debris. A flash of sunlight glinting off something caught his attention and he shifted closer. Brushing away the loose dirt, he found a short staff with a crystal of some sort set into the end.

McCouch sighed heavily. He had to call the local authorities; he had no choice, which meant this section of Mt. Glory was going to remained untouched for at least a few more days. It might make the tree-huggers happy, but he knew DeLay wasn't going to like it. However, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. An honest man, McCouch knew the law and he followed it – no exceptions.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## Rainier University

**1:00 p.m.**

 

          Blair looked up from the notes he was taking – the start of lectures for the class he would begin teaching in August – and smiled. "Derek! This is a surprise, but it's good to see you," he said, standing and extending his hand to his visitor.

          Derek Rayne, precept of the San Francisco Legacy House, stepped up to Blair's desk and took the younger man's proffered hand in a firm grip, giving it a shake. "So, I understand you've been made a Research Associate in the Anthropology Department?"

"Uh, yeah," Blair replied, his cheeks turning a little rosy. "The department can't hire me for the faculty since I'm one of their graduates, but this is close enough. I'm working with Dr. Greyson – we have a grant to study the effects of globalization on Native Peoples in the northwest region."

Sandburg gestured for Derek to sit in one of the comfortable chairs on the opposite side of his desk, noticing for the first time that the man was carrying a well-used, soft, leather briefcase. Around fifty, Rayne was tall and somewhat lanky, with longish gray-brown hair that was always in a state of disarray, giving him a "mad scientist" air. His eyes were bright and intense, his gaze penetrating. If Dr. Derek Rayne had been a college professor, he could have quieted a room with one hard look, or captured the students' attention with just his presence, which seemed to fill whatever room he was in. But then Blair had always been in awe of the man.

          "Have you and Detective Ellison recovered from your adventures in Bulgaria?[1]" Derek asked when he was settled.

          Blair grinned and dropped back into his own chair again. "Yeah, I think so. Oh, and I hope it's all right with you, but I asked Jim to drop by the new House this evening. I'd like him to meet everyone. I think he's feeling a little neglected right now. I've been so busy since we got back from Bulgaria, dealing with the new job here, getting ready for the House to open…"

          Derek smiled. "Fine. And I'd say Detective Ellison's gotten used to having you around, now you're moving into a new job, with new coworkers. It's an understandable reaction."

          "Yeah, I know, but I'd like to make it as easy for him as I can," Blair said. He checked his open door, then asked quietly, "Is your visit, uh, Legacy-related?"

          "No, not exactly," Derek replied, his expression showing just a hint of his amusement. Blair was taking his recent admission into the ancient secret society very seriously. "I just thought I should drop by and tell you a little about the people you'll be working with, since they've all met one another in the course of their work for the Legacy. I didn't want you to feel precluded from the community of the Cascade House in any way."

          Blair leaned back, looking a little startled. "Wow. I really appreciate that. I hadn't thought about the fact that they might all know each other already."

          "Not very well, actually," Derek corrected and then smiled. "Except for John and CarineJolie, but then, they are married after all."

          "Ah, okay," Blair said with an answering smile. "So, who am I going to be working with?"

          Derek picked up his briefcase and pulled out a file folder, which he handed to Blair. "You'll find a more detailed profile of the other House members in there, as well as some other information you'll need," he said. "Maggie Wainwright will be your precept, and the others are Father John Farr, his wife, CarineJolie Louvel, and Sean Patrick Keene."

          "A married priest?" Blair asked, his eyebrows arching with surprise.

          "Eastern Orthodox," Derek replied.

          "Ah, right. Okay."

          "Maggie's a rather well-known historian in European circles, Father John a theologian and a psychologist, CJ studied Comparative Literature but, like you, she's really more of an interdisciplinary scholar. She's also an accomplished tri-athlete. And Sean is a very talented linguist and archeologist."

          "And I guess that makes me the resident anthropologist and point man with the local authorities, right?"

          Derek nodded with a small smile. "As well as being a shaman," he added. "Each of the others have their own gifts, although some, like Sean, are still learning how they might be used."

          "What kinds of talents?" Blair asked, his curiosity immediately rising.

          Derek thought a moment, then said, "I guess it would be easiest to say that Maggie's gifts are similar to mine…"

Blair nodded. He knew Derek had visions and was a psychometrist, but what other talents the man might possess remained a mystery, although Sandburg suspected there must be more. It sounded like Maggie Wainwright also had "the Sight."

"…CJ's are closest to what you've seen Alex do – she has visions, often rooted in her dreams, that have a strong precognitive bent – and Father John is a medium."

          "Oh, man, that must make the Church _really_ nervous – if they even know about it," Blair said.

          "Not as much as you might think," Derek corrected. "The Orthodox have always embraced a more mystical practice of their faith than their western counterparts. His bishops are well aware of John's talents, and they consider them a gift from God."

          Sandburg nodded. "That's a lot more open-minded than I expected. And Sean?"

          "Ah," Derek said, leaning back in his chair, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I'm not sure how to best describe Sean's talents… A sensitivity to energies, both good and ill, I suppose."

          "Now that sounds interesting. But you say he doesn't know what to do with it?"

          "Not yet, but I'm sure he will grow into it," Derek replied. "Just as you have grown from a novice to a well-practiced shaman."

          Blair blushed and dipped his head. "Uh, yeah, thanks."

          "And I am sorry that it took us two extra months to complete the renovations to the House and get everyone to Cascade, but these things can take time. In fact, John and CJ are going to have to leave tomorrow for a few days, to finish a project they started."

          "No problem," Blair said. "The post-doc I was doing got me through May and the fee the Luna Foundation paid me for the, uh, consultation in Bulgaria was more than enough to cover my expenses through June – through the rest of the summer, to be honest."

          "Good, good," Derek said. "Now, do you have any questions for me?"

          Sandburg grinned. "Uh, yeah, I can think of a couple…"

          And the two men continued to talk well into the afternoon.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## The loft

**5:00 p.m.**

 

          Blair checked his reflection in the windows of his room once more, then rubbed his slightly damp palms on his thighs and ordered himself to relax. But he couldn't.

          He checked the clock one last time. It looked like Jim was going to miss the private party after all. He'd really been hoping Jim would be there – for moral support – but if not, well, he'd just have to deal. After all, these were his new coworkers, not Jim's.

After a deep breath, Blair walked over and scooped up his keys, ready to head off and begin his new life as a member of the Legacy. He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, when the phone rang. Turning back, he grabbed the receiver as it rang a second time.

          "Hello?" he greeted.

          _"Blair, it's Jim. Look, I don't think I'm going to be able to make it…"_ the detective said, trailing off at the end.

          "I'm sorry to hear that, but I'll tell Derek you said hello. He stopped by my office at the university this afternoon; we had a good talk."

          _"Glad to hear it,"_ Jim replied. _"And I really am sorry, but things are still rolling here."_

          "Don't sweat it. I appreciate you calling to let me know."

          _"The time kind of slipped past me. I thought I'd already missed you."_

          "I was just on my way out," Blair chuckled.

          _"I won't keep you then. Have a good time, and good luck."_

          "Thanks, Jim. Good luck on the case, too," Blair said. "I'll see you later tonight?"

          _"Yeah. Drive safe,"_ Jim concluded.

          "Bye, Jim," Blair said, then hung up. With another deep breath he headed out the door, saying under his breath, "Into the breach…"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## The Oran Institute

**5:50 p.m.**

 

          The drive to the new Cascade Legacy House, or the Oran Institute as it was known to local scholars, philanthropists and the curious, took a little over thirty minutes from the loft, the last ten of which were on a winding, two-lane road that snaked its way through the thickly wooded hillsides east of the city. A large stone archway rose over the entrance to the grounds, sturdy metal gates set into the stone standing open, but he could feel the wards that were firmly in place, there to turn back any malevolent energy or entities that might attempt to enter.

As he pulled into the cobblestone driveway Blair could see that at least a portion of the property was enclosed by the tall stone fence that stretched away from the archway to a point in the distance where he lost sight of it. "Security's a good thing," he said softly to himself, wondering, not for the first time, if he was ready to face the forces the Legacy battled.

The grounds of the Institute were green and lush, obviously well-tended, but they didn't look artificial in any way. It reminded Sandburg of a park, or a nature preserve, and he guessed the location had been carefully chosen so the members of the House could use the natural environment to ground themselves. And if all-Hell did break out at some point, they wouldn't take out any innocent civilians being way out here.

          When he reached the end of the circular drive, he parked his car next to an older-model Land Rover and climbed out, taking a moment to stare up at the amazing two-story structure that greeted him. It was much bigger than he had expected. The Cascade Legacy House looked like an unlikely cross between a Victorian mansion and a Celtic castle. Blair liked it immediately; it appealed to his sense of nonconformity.

          He walked up wide stone steps and passed under a stone archway that opened onto a portico leading to the front entrance. At the double doors, the portico opened up on either side to a wide veranda that ran the entire length of that side of the House. _Gone with the Wind meets American Gothic_ , he thought with a grin, _in stone instead of wood_.

Next to the thick, wooden doors – which were carved with a design that looked like it had come out of an illuminated manuscript – and embedded in the stone wall of the House was a brass plaque that read simply: Oran Institute, est. 565 C.E.

          "565?" Blair asked softly, his eyes rounding. He shook his head – well, the Legacy had been around a lot longer than that, but he'd been under the impression that the Oran Institute was just a front for the Legacy, not a real entity in and of itself. _Live and learn_ , he told himself, then rang the doorbell and waited.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The inside of the huge stone House was no less impressive than the outside. Polished hardwood floors shone in the late afternoon light streaming through tall windows, many of which were made of stained glass and depicted scenes Blair couldn't identity, although he was relatively certain they were religious in nature. The tonsured heads of the men portrayed in the artwork left him confident of that much.

His guide was Mrs. Anice MacRae, who had opened the door a few moments earlier. She had introduced herself, then asked him to follow her.

Mrs. MacRae was an older woman – Blair guessed she was probably in her seventies – her skin wrinkled and tan, eyes lively. Perhaps an inch over five-foot tall, she walked with purpose, her posture impeccable. When she spoke, describing various rooms as they quickly passed them, Blair could hear the faint trace of a Scottish brogue.

Each of the quickly-described rooms was large, with high ceilings and lots of windows. The theme was wood and stone, leather and muted earth-tones that left him feeling safe and comfortable. Tasteful artwork decorated the walls and sat on various tables, all pleasing to the eye. _And worth a small fortune_ , he noted silently.

At the end of a long hallway, Mrs. MacRae turned and took him up a flight of stairs to the second floor, which was guarded at the top by a suit of armor positioned next to the wall as if ready to ask them for a password when they reached the top. Blair grinned and followed the woman, who led him into an upstairs library that was filled floor-to-ceiling with books in dark-wood shelves that took up three full walls. A large table had been placed in one corner of the room, several chairs evenly spaced around it. A sofa, loveseat, and several overstuffed chairs were also arranged around a raised, circular fireplace dominating the center of the room. There were also two desks in the room, one with a computer.

The fourth wall, free of books, was almost completely taken up with floor-to-ceiling windows beyond which Blair could see the gardens that stretched out behind the house to the tall stone fence. And behind the fence he'd seen earlier, the city of Cascade spread out from the foothills to the sea.

A woman stood at the windows, taking in the stunning view, and Blair knew immediately it was his new boss – Mary Margaret Wainwright. In her late forties, with short, red hair liberally streaked with silver, "Maggie" Wainwright was still a handsome woman. She turned, green eyes fixing on Blair's blue for a moment before her gaze swept over him, leaving him feeling like he'd just been scanned by some high-powered computer.

          She stepped up to him and he guessed she was about five-seven and, from the muscles he could see in her arms when she extended her hand to him, he knew she was in excellent physical condition. _Jim's going to like her_ , he thought, although he couldn't decide why. It was an aura thing.

          "Blair," she greeted with a soft Irish lilt, "so very nice to finally meet you."

          "Likewise, Dr. Wainwright," he replied, taking her hand.

          "Oh, go on with you now, it's Maggie, please."

          "Maggie," he agreed, beginning to smile. He liked her already himself.

          "So, what do you think of the House?" she asked, releasing his hand and walking over to take a seat in one of the comfortable overstuffed chairs.

          Blair followed her, but sat on the sofa. "It's… incredible," he admitted. "I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. It's breathtaking."

          "I couldn't agree more," a deep voice stated from the doorway and Maggie and Blair both glanced over to see who it was.

          "Ah, John, come in and meet Blair," Maggie called, waving him over.

          Blair stood, watching as the priest crossed the room to join them. Father John Farr was a much larger man than Blair had imagined while reading the profile Derek had given him. A couple inches over six feet, and more muscular than Jim, it was obvious the man worked out – a lot. His black hair was cut short in what Sandburg had come to think of as a "military style," and his skin was a deep coppery-brown color. _Definitely of middle-eastern descent_ , the Guide thought, _but his English's flawless so he must have been raised here_.

          "Hi, Blair," John greeted, proffering his hand. The priest's voice was full of resonant tones that suggested a quality singing voice.

          Sandburg shook his hand, saying, "Uh, hi."

          John grinned and shook his head. "Why is it everyone expects a priest to look more–"

          "Unimposing?" Maggie finished for him.

          John laughed. "Yeah, that's probably it."

          Blair grinned. "Well, no offense, but you do look more like a commando than a priest, despite the collar," he offered.

          "None taken. And that's probably because I _was_ a commando before I was a priest. Ten years in the Army Rangers, actually."

          "Rangers?"

          "But that was ten years ago – ancient history. However, I can't seem to give up the exercise, or the haircut," the priest replied.

          "Where's CJ?" Maggie asked him.

          "She was right behind me a minute ago," John said, turning to look back at the doorway. "Ah, there you are! Blair, my lovely wife, CJ."

          Blair's eyes rounded as CarineJolie Louvel Farr stepped into the room. A year older than he was, "CJ" wasn't just lovely, she was a disarmingly beautiful woman. About the same height as Maggie, she was considerably leaner than the older woman. Her thick black hair was long and wavy, her eyes a pale blue-green, and her light cinnamon complexion made it impossible for Blair to guess her exact ethnicity. It was also very clear that she was an athlete; she moved with an air of confidence and strength that he'd only seen in other female athletes on campus.

          "You must be Blair Sandburg," she said as she reached them. "Hi, I'm CJ Farr."

          "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Farr," Sandburg said, shaking her hand.

          CJ shook her head. "It's just CJ." She looked to her husband and Maggie adding, "I just saw Derek. He said he and Sean would be in to join us in a few minutes."

          Blair waited until John and CJ sat down together on the loveseat, then dropped back onto the sofa. "Uh, CJ, I hope you don't mind me asking," he said, meeting her gaze, "but would you mind telling me what your ethnic background is?"

          CJ chuckled. "You really are an anthropologist, aren't you? Sure. My father was African-American – a free man of color, to be more precise – and French, and my mother was Scots-Irish and Choctaw. The family roots are all rooted in New Orleans, and stretch back to the 1700s. I was born and raised in the French Quarter, in a house that's been in the family for generations."

          "You've lost the accent," Blair observed.

          "John tells me it was never that strong to begin with, but going to school in California seems to have pretty much erased whatever I did have."

          The conversation stopped there, Derek stepping into the library, followed by Sean Keene, a twenty-five year old with blond hair, brown eyes and a good tan. Blair's first thought was "surfer dude". At five-nine, Sean could only be described as slender, and he was definitely the least physically imposing of the Legacy members gathered. Blair saw in him a potential kindred spirit – exercise was all right, but if you could avoid it, so much the better.

          "I see you're already getting acquainted," Derek said. "Excellent." He walked over and sat down next to Blair.

Sean opted for another of the overstuffed chairs that placed him slightly apart from the others. He watched Blair, his expression one Sandburg decided was a little unfriendly. _I wonder why_ , Blair mused.

"Welcome to the new Cascade Legacy House," Derek said to all of them. "You've all read the profiles I gave you, and you all know what it is the Legacy does… I just want you to know, you've all been carefully chosen to carry on the work started by the Seattle House." He glanced around at each of them, then continued. "This House is more than your new work site, or even your new residence. This is a place of power, but you will all discover that for yourselves, I'm sure. And I hope that, over time, you will all come to feel that this is also your home. None of you are required to live here, as you know, but I suggest that you do, if you can. Blair, we understand your situation is more complicated."

Sandburg nodded, wishing he could make some part of the House his own. He felt so at home here, but being Jim's Guide meant he had another responsibility equally as pressing as his work for the Legacy, and he suddenly knew it was going to be complicated to find a way to negotiate both. He noted the sour look Sean shot him, but dismissed it.

 _Maybe he just doesn't like the long hair_ , Blair thought, but somehow he knew it was something more – something they would have to get worked out.

"Now, why don't you allow me to give you the complete tour," Derek offered. "Mrs. MacRae has no doubt described some of the rooms as you passed them, but there is much more to see than you might suspect."

Derek stood and the others did as well. The San Francisco precept gestured to the library. "Take this room. Here you have access to the collected works of Legacy members stretching back through time – ancient texts, journals, various writings, priceless treasures that you will no doubt come to reply upon, just as I have. But why don't you come with me and I will show you the real heart of this House..."

They followed Derek out of the library, down a second flight of stairs and over to a wall. He paused there. "Maggie, would you do the honors?" he asked, then told the others, "At the moment, Maggie is the only one who has been cleared for access, but we'll remedy that in a few minutes."

The woman stepped up in front of a small painting of a Scottish loch and a moment later the wall shimmered and disappeared.

"Whoa. Cool. Holographic projection?" Blair asked, feeling a little dazzled by the display. He heard Sean snort softly, the derisive sound grating on his nerves. _What's this guy's problem?_ he wondered, watching Maggie step inside and touch a button on the wall. She gestured for them to come in.

"Yes, it's a hologram," Derek replied as they all walked into a room with state-of-the-art computer equipment. "Your control room. Here you have access to computers that can reach Legacy databases, a secured communications center and, in the next room, a fully equipped laboratory in order to study artifacts and the like."

"Wow," CJ breathed, looking around. "This is definitely an upgrade from the Athens' House."

John nodded his agreement. "I'll say."

Derek grinned. "We do try to keep you happy." Then he turned so he could address the entire group. "John and CJ were in Athens before coming here, and they'll be heading back there for a few more days tomorrow. Mr. Keene was in the Boston House, and Maggie has been interim-precept of the Christchurch House in New Zealand for the past year and a half."

"And Sandburg?" Sean asked, but he didn't look at Blair.

"I've been right here in Cascade," Blair offered, knowing Keene had to know that before he asked, it was in his profile, unless he hadn't bothered to read it. _He's making some kind of point_ , Sandburg decided, _and I don't want to know what it is_. "I'm, uh, new to the Legacy." He wasn't sure why, but he didn't like having to admit that to Keene.

Before any further comments could be made, Derek walked them all through the log-on procedures for the computer, and everyone except Derek had retinal scans taken and downloaded into the computer database in order for them to clear security and enter the control room on their own.

When that was done, Mrs. MacRae arrived to tell them that supper was being served.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**8:00 p.m.**

 

          Blair stood in what he had been told was "his wing" of the House. He glanced around, amazed. The space was bigger than the loft, and complete with a study/library, two bedrooms, bathroom, living room, kitchenette and dining alcove. In fact, the entire House was much bigger than he had expected, looking at the front of the structure. It even had an underground complex with a gym and a pool.

          He shivered with excitement. He was really a part of the Legacy, a member of am ancient, secret society fighting… evil. The words Derek had spoken earlier at the large dinner table came back to him: _"Since the beginning of time, mankind has existed between the world of light, and the world of darkness. It is into that boundary that you step…"_

Blair puffed his cheeks. "I can do this," he said aloud. There had been many others who had come before him; some of their writings were in the library. Maybe one day his would be as well. _"You will all be required to keep a journal that chronicles your work in the Legacy. One day your journals will be passed on to others who will follow after you…"_

It felt like he'd somehow stepped into a movie, but Blair knew it was real. He and Jim had already had their own encounters with evil. _"Ours is an old and a secret society, created in ancient times to protect the innocent from those creatures that inhabit the shadows and the night… We have many allies and many enemies."_

          "Tell me about it," he muttered softly. And now he was jumping right in the middle of it all – he and Jim. Because whether or not the Sentinel knew it, he'd been made an honorary member of the Legacy. And, Blair suspected, Jim was destined to know more about the organization than he'd ever wanted to.

          But now it was time to head back to the loft. Tomorrow he would return to the House and see what his first assignment would be. He only wished that John and CJ didn't have to leave; he liked them both, and he wanted to spend more time getting to know them. He knew he wouldn't mind working alone with Maggie, but Sean? Sean Keene was another matter.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The Oran Institute**

**July 8 th, 9:00 a.m.**

          Sitting at the oak table in the library, Blair scribbled occasional notes onto a legal pad as Maggie talked, detailing their current assignment.

          "…and it's been confirmed that the construction site has been plagued by a series of accidents, various mishaps and other 'weirdness,' according to our client."

          "Who exactly is the client?" Sean asked, tilting his chair back on two legs and folding his arms over his chest.

          "A Mr. Adam McCouch, foreman on one of the sub-developments," Maggie said. "He's a local contractor who's been in business for almost thirty years. He says he's never seen anything like this, and he's at a complete loss about what to do next. Ever since they unearthed what Rainier University has verified as a Northern Westeskiwin burial site, it's only gotten worse – much worse. He's at his wits' end."

          "What, he thinks the site's haunted?" Sean asked her.

          "Mr. McCouch has no idea what the problem might be," Maggie replied. "But his boss is trying to hurry along the university so they can continue with the work at hand, and he's pressuring Adam to make up the lost time. That, however, is impossible when equipment goes missing, tractors are overturned in the night and other events leave the crew too afraid to come to work, or stay after they do get there."

          "Where exactly is this construction site?" Blair asked her.

          "Near the base of Mt. Glory," the precept replied.

          "And the developer?"

          "DeLay Industries," Maggie supplied.

          Blair's eyes rounded. "DeLay?"

          Maggie nodded. "Yes. Why?"

          Blair glanced from the precept to Sean, then said, "Uh, well, DeLay is currently under investigation by the Cascade PD. There have been a few deaths and several injuries on other DeLay sites, and in properties he's built."

          Sean let his chair drop back so it was resting on all four legs again and asked, "What, you think the spirits of the dead are back for some revenge?"

          Blair glanced at the younger man, saying, "No, I was thinking that some of these incidents might be due to substandard materials and an overworked crew. DeLay only pays for the minimum people possible on his projects, and he works them like a slave driver from what I've heard. That's got to contribute to some of the accidents."

          "Yes, that might account for some of the events Mr. McCouch described," Maggie agreed. "But not all of them. I asked John and CJ to stop by the site on their way to the airport this morning. John called to let me know he sensed a restless spirit at the old burial site, and I trust his analysis. That's where we'll be concentrating our efforts."

          "What do we do first?" Sean asked. "The cops aren't–"

          "Uh, excuse me," Blair interrupted, looking to Maggie, "but before we get into that, I'm curious, how did McCouch know to contact the Legacy anyway?"

          The precept smiled. "He didn't, but his brother-in-law is familiar with the work the Oran Institute does and he suggested Adam contact us."

          "Ah, okay. And do you mind me asking about that?" Blair continued. "What exactly is the Oran Institute? Isn't it just a front for the Legacy?"

"Yes," Maggie said, nodding, "I suppose you could say that, but it's more than _just_ that. In 563, Oran and his brother, St. Columba – along with a dozen or so other monks – journeyed from Ireland to Iona on a great missionary pilgrimage. There they built a chapel. Columba wanted to consecrate the land where the chapel had been built with a burial and, for whatever reason, it was deemed necessary for someone to be buried alive. Oran volunteered.

"You see, Oran and Columba had been arguing heatedly over the true nature of Heaven and Hell for many years, and Oran wanted to prove his position to his brother. Oran promised to provide them with a sign, should his views prove to be right.

          "Their bargain struck, Oran descended into a pit that had been prepared for him, ready to give his life in sacrifice for the church and his beliefs. They buried him alive and, of course, he died. They left him there for twenty days, then dug him up again. And, low and behold, Oran's head began to speak to them, saying these words: 'Heaven is not what it is said to be. Hell is not what it is said to be. The saved are not forever happy, the damned are not forever lost.'

          "As you might imagine, this came as a great shock to Columba and the others. Unable to accept that his brother had been right all along, Columba decided that his brother's body had been possessed by a demon, and ordered that the pit immediately be filled again. And there Oran lies, even to this day. The graveyard itself became Scotland's royal cemetery with sixty kings – Scottish, Irish and Norse – buried there, including McBeth.

          "But that's just the start of the story. A few of the monks, some of whom hadn't agreed with Oran's point of view before his death, now believed that they had witnessed the results of the bargain Oran had struck with Columbia. They were convinced that Oran's claims were the truth, and that it was the Holy Spirit who had been speaking to them through Oran, not a demon as Columba claimed. In 565 they founded the Oran Institute and left Iona, traveling across Christendom to seek out others who had seen visions of Heaven and Hell while at prayer or near death. What they learned along the way cemented their belief that the Holy Spirit had, indeed, been speaking through Oran that day, and telling them the truth. They settled in Byzantium and turned to developing practices that would allow them to see into Heaven and Hell, and then to help the spirits they found there. Over the years, the pursuits of the Oran Institute slowly expanded to include a wide variety of activities, everything from protecting sacred relics to debunking mediums during the early spiritualist movement here in the United States, just to name two."

          "Wow," Blair breathed.

          "The membership was invited to join the Legacy in the fourteenth century by St. Symeon, a Byzantine Hesychast, and they have been valuable participants ever since," Maggie concluded.

          Blair studied the woman for a moment and then said, "And you and Father John are members, aren't you."

          The precept smiled and nodded. "Very good. Yes, we are."

          Sean couldn't cover his look of surprise, but before he could say anything, Maggie added, "Well, boys, it's time now to get to work. We need to compile some information on this construction site, from ancient times 'til now. The more we know about the location and the events that took place there, the better chance we have of learning who this restless spirit might be. And, hopefully, put it to rest. Oh, and we'll be receiving the artifacts they've found on the site later today. They're on loan from the university."

          "Wow," Blair said. "That must have taken an act of God."

          Maggie smiled. "Close enough."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**8:20 p.m.**

 

          Blair looked up from the computer monitor, surprised to see how late it had gotten. He'd been digging through databases all day long and was still marveling over the massive amount of information the Legacy had managed to pull together – it was mind-boggling. The only break he'd had all day was lunch, Mrs. MacRae arriving at 12:30 to tell them, in no uncertain terms, that they would come to the table and eat.

          He reached for the phone sitting nearby and called the loft.

          _"Hello?"_

          "Hi, Jim, it's me. Look, I'm just finishing up here. I should be home around nine."

          _"Sounds good. I'll still be up. How's your first day going?"_

          "Good. I just got lost in some research I was doing and the time got away from me."

          _"Be careful on the drive back. I heard on the news that there's a multi-car pile-up on Seattle, and I doubt they've got it cleared up yet."_

          "Ah, okay, I'll take Olympic instead. Thanks for letting me know."

          _"No problem. I'll see you when you get here."_

          "Yeah, okay. Bye, Jim."

          The line went dead and Blair returned the receiver to its cradle, then stood and stretched. It took him a few minutes, but he found Maggie in the basement gym, riding a stationary bike. He gave her an overview of what he'd found so far, then said good night and headed for home.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## The loft

**10:30 p.m.**

 

          Blair pulled into his regular spot, turned off the engine and then the lights. He sighed with relief. Traffic had been an absolute nightmare. Trying to avoid the accident on Seattle, everyone had decided to take Olympic, just as Blair had, and an accident there had tied up traffic for a little more than an hour, putting him home a lot later than he'd expected. But his cell phone hadn't rung, so he guessed Jim had seen the report on the ten o'clock news and knew why he was running so late.

          He climbed out of the car, locked the door and headed for the loft, his stomach rumbling loudly. He climbed the stairs and hurried down the hallway to the door. Grabbing the knob, he twisted it and stepped inside. Glancing around, he saw no sign of Jim.

 _He probably went to bed_ , he concluded silently. _Damn. I'm hungry, but if I fix something, I'll wake him up_.

          Blair headed into the kitchen, thinking about what he could fix that would be relatively quiet. He stopped, staring, when he found a plate of food sitting in front of the microwave – a burrito, a scoop of rice and a pile of mixed vegetables.

 _Yum. Thank you, Jim_ , he thought, picking it up and sliding it into the microwave. He set the timer, then quickly headed to his room to change before returning to the kitchen to be sure he caught the microwave before the timer _dinged_.

Pouring himself a glass of milk, Blair carried the drink and the steaming plate over to the table and sat down, enjoying the meal. _Jim does take care of me_ , he thought with affection. _I'll have to apologize for being so late in the morning. Maybe take him for donuts before we go to work._

          When he finished, he took his plate and glass back into the kitchen, rinsed and washed them, then added them to the dishes already in the drying rack. With that done, all that was left was to turn off the light Jim had left on in the living room and go to bed.

          As he crossed to the light, Blair stopped and smiled. Jim was stretched out on the couch, sound asleep. _He waited up for me_ , he realized, warmed by the thought. "Jim?" he whispered softly.

          Ellison blinked and opened his eyes, then sat up. "Hey. You made it home."

          "Finally," Blair said. "Sorry about that, man. There was another accident on Olympic and I got stuck in the tie-up for over an hour. Totally not cool."

          "Did you find the food I left?"

          "Yeah, I did. Thanks. I appreciate it, too. I was starved."

          Jim grinned. "Thought you might be."

          "But you didn't have to wait up for me."

          The Sentinel shrugged. "Didn't really plan it that way. I want to hear how it went today… Guess I just dropped off."

          Blair sat down and took a few minutes to tell Jim about the weirdness happening at the Mt. Glory construction site, and the research he'd done, concluding, "I'm guessing half the stuff that's happening is a result of DeLay's not-so-above-board-methods, but some of it… Well, we've seen some pretty weird stuff, so maybe I'm willing to believe that there's a pissed off spirit running around the site, adding to the foreman's troubles."

          Jim hesitated a moment, then replied, "Not sure I'm ready to buy that, Chief, but I didn't know all that was going on out there either." He pushed off the sofa and stood. "I'll pass it along to Simon in the morning, see what he thinks."

          "Yeah, should be fine. And if you find out anything, can you let me know?"

          "Sure, no problem," Jim promised.

          Blair nodded. They said their good nights and each headed off to bed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

## The Oran Institute

**July 9 th, 9:30 a.m.**

 

          Blair was sitting at the computer, checking through the records of various Westeskiwin treaties when Maggie stepped into the control room, saying, "Blair, we need to take a drive."

          Sean, who sat across the room at another terminal, started to stand.

          The precept looked over at the younger man, saying, "Sean, I'd like you to stay here and keep working on narrowing down who our restless spirit might be."

          Keene didn't look happy, but he nodded and sat back down, glowering at Blair as the Guide stood and walked over to join her.

"Where are we going?" Sandburg asked her.

          "I just received a call," Maggie explained as she turned and started out of the room, "Adam McCouch was found on the Mt. Glory site earlier this morning – he's dead."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

  1. **Glory** **construction site**



**10:15 a.m.**

 

          Maggie and Blair walked across the construction site, slowing down as they drew near the crime scene, which was cordoned off with police tape. Inside the perimeter a crime scene unit was working, although there was no body that the Legacy members could see. Jim stood off a little ways, watching the technicians. He looked up, meeting Sandburg's gaze, then walked over to join him.

          "Hey, Jim," Blair greeted. "Maggie, this is my friend, Jim Ellison. Jim, Maggie Wainwright, my new boss."

          Jim extended his hand and Maggie took it. Smiling, she said, "It's nice to finally meet you, Detective Ellison."

"It's Jim," he said, smiling back.

          Blair watched the pair, grinning. He'd been right, Jim liked her.

          "What're you two doing out here?" Ellison asked them.

          "We were called by Mr. McCouch's sister," Maggie replied. "As you've probably heard, we're looking into some unusual happenings that have been going on out here."

          Jim nodded. "Yeah, Blair told me." He glanced from Blair to Maggie, then dropped his voice and added softly, "You might want to see this. The body wasn't… Well, let's just say it wasn't what we'd expected."

          Blair frowned. "What does that mean, man?"

          "We can take a look?" Maggie asked the detective.

          Ellison hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Why not. If nothing else, you might have a new theory to add to the list. Come with me."

          Jim led them over to where the body had been moved. Adam McCouch lay in a black body bag on a gurney, waiting to be transported to the morgue. "I have to warn you, it's pretty grisly," he cautioned them.

          Blair wished he could turn away, but he knew if the condition of the body had bothered Jim, then he should probably see it. "I'm okay," he said.

          "Go on, Detective," Maggie prompted him.

          Jim unzipped the bag and pulled it open. Blair swallowed hard and held his ground. Maggie, on the other hand, leaned in a little closer, her eyes narrowing. "Amazing," she said softly.

          "Yeah," Jim replied. "No one has any idea how that could have happen so quickly. McCouch was seen alive by three of the crew and fifteen minutes later, they found this."

          Blair swallowed again. "Fifteen minutes? I don't think so, man," he managed, trying not to look at McCouch's body, but unable to stop himself. Someone had carved an odd-looking design into the man's naked body, lifting out precise bits of the man's skin to a depth of several layers.

"It's almost as if the surface of his skin has been etched somehow," Maggie said, cocking her head to the side slightly.

"Embossed in reverse, one of the techs said," Jim offered.

"Jim, please," Blair said, turning slightly green.

"Can we get pictures of the design?" Maggie asked Ellison.

"Do you recognize it?" Jim asked.

"No, but I'd like to see if we can find out what it is, or where it's from," she told him.

"I'll give Blair a copy of the photos once I get them – probably later today."

"Thank you," she replied, then turned to Blair, saying, "We should take a look at what the university's found today before we head back."

Sandburg nodded, more than happy to get away from the macabre sight.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The Oran Institute**

**3:30 p.m.**

 

Maggie, Blair and Sean sat at the library table. "So," the precept said, "let's hear what we know."

          "Well," Blair said, taking a deep breath, "the area at the base of Mt. Glory was definitely part of the historical territory of the Westeskiwin. The tribe ranged north to south from Cascade to southern Oregon. And the burial site is definitely Westeskiwin as well, probably from around 1850."

          "Which was during a time when the Westeskiwin and other Northwest tribes were being relocated to reservations," Sean added. "Chief Seattle and the Nez Percé are probably the most recognizable group from that time."

          "Yeah, and like the Nez Percé, the Westeskiwin resisted the government's plans for them," Blair explained. "But US troops were smart. They arrived during the tribe's annual migration from north to south. As a result, the population was basically cut in half. The southern group was rounded up and settled on a reservation near Portland, and most of the northern group were forced onto trains and relocated in Oklahoma. All Indian title to the land was liquidated, and the Oregon and Washington Territories were created."

          "There were a few small groups of Westeskiwin who escaped to Canada, and a few others who were absorbed into other northwest tribes," Sean added. "But they all suffered more or less the same fate."

          "Have there been any other reports of unusual events taking place in the area of the present construction site?" Maggie asked.

          "I didn't find anything," Sean said.

          "Me either," Blair said, adding, "at first. Then I remembered something I'd read while I was doing research for a professor working on the early settlement of Cascade. I got into the on-line copies of the local newspaper and checked out the issues from the 1870s. I found this."

He pushed copies of an article over to both Sean and Maggie. "Mr. Bradley Sterling bought the land at the base of Mt. Glory and planned to build a mansion there. That's right where the construction site is now. Over the course of six months, two people were killed and several others were hurt while working on Sterling's house. Some of the events described as taking place on Sterling's property are exactly the same as what Adam McCouch told us – equipment disappearing, large objects being turned over, people feeling like they'd been struck but there was no one there, that kind of thing. Sterling finally had to give up. He sold the land and moved to San Francisco. Eventually Mt. Glory became part of the state park system, but it actually belongs to the Westeskiwin people; there was just no one here to claim it. In fact, it's the only land that didn't have its title liquidated. For whatever reason, in 1849, the area at the western base of Mt. Glory was given to the Westeskiwin, in perpetuity. Technically, it _still_ belongs to the Westeskiwin, and they've had a lawsuit filed in the state courts since, get this, 1983, but nothing's ever been done to address their claims. The government claims that the Northern Westeskiwin no longer exist as a sovereign Indian nation, and even if it did, Indian claims were nullified in the 1840s and 50s. Lawyers for the tribe are arguing that this land is different, and that it was given to the entire Westeskiwin people, and there are plenty of them left, just not in Washington state. They've already won the judgment and had it upheld on the first appeal, but now it's going to the Circuit Court, and who knows when they'll get around to hearing it. By then DeLay will have the whole area covered with condos, schools and stores and it'll be a moot point."

          "How did DeLay get the necessary permits to build in the first place if there's an existing court suit?" Maggie asked.

          "That's a good question. I called Jim, and it looks like DeLay probably got away with it the same way he's gotten around other problems in the past – he bought someone off. But, in this case, I don't see how the permits can be upheld in a court of law, because there's an existing treaty giving Mt. Glory to the Westeskiwin Nation, and even if the overwhelming majority of them live in Oregon, Canada, or Oklahoma, they still own that land."

"And the burial site?" Maggie asked.

"According to the experts brought in by the university, it dates from the time of the relocation – 1850s. It was probably from one of the small splintered groups that refused to leave the area," Sean supplied.

"A handful of survivors, who were determined to die on their ancestral lands," Blair concluded.

"And the artifacts?" she asked.

"The usual," Sean supplied. "Except for the short staff. I can't find any references to it, but I did find one cross-reference to a similar object – a Westeskiwin headdress that was found in Southern Oregon. That piece also had a crystal embedded in it. But the history of the headdress was impossible to follow, so I don't know where it is now."

          She looked to Blair, asking, "Have the photos of that design on Mr. McCouch's body arrived?"

          "Not, yet," Sandburg replied. "I'll call Jim when we're done and see if they're ready. If so, he can fax them over, or send them as JPEGs."

          "Good work, gentlemen," Maggie said, smiling at them.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

  1. **Glory** **construction site**



**July 10 th, 2:00 p.m.**

 

          Blair parked his car next to Jim's truck and climbed out. He glanced around, spotting the Sentinel standing nearby, talking to a woman Sandburg didn't recognize. All around the area, uniformed officers and crime lab technicians went about their business.

He walked over to join Ellison as soon as the woman moved away, saying, "Hey, Jim, I got your message; what's up?"

          The detective turned, giving Sandburg an unobstructed view of a body lying on the ground. It looked just like Adam McCouch had the day before. "Oh, jeeze," he hissed, turning away.

          "Sorry, Chief," Jim said, resting a hand on the younger man's shoulder and leading him off. "But I thought you should know about the second body."

          "Yeah, you're right," Blair breathed. "But, man, they look terrible!"

          "Tell me about it," Jim replied dryly. "This one's Phil Reiko, a bulldozer operator. Three of his buddies saw him alive twenty minutes ago when they finished a late lunch."

          Blair started to say something, but a hard shove from behind sent him stumbling forward, his arms flailing to keep himself from falling flat on his face.

          "Chief, you all right?" Jim asked, looking confused.

          Sandburg turned and started to snap at whoever had pushed him, but he stopped short. "Jim… Where did everybody go?"

          Ellison glanced over his shoulder, then stopped and turned around, staring back the way they had just come. There was no one there – no cops, no technicians and no body. "What the hell?" he breathed, then swung back to face Blair, demanding, "What just happened here?"

          "You're asking me?"

          Jim blinked once, then replied deadpan, "You're the one working for the Legacy, Chief, not me."

          Blair grinned. "Granted, but I still have no idea what just happened."

          A sudden gust of wind howled around Blair, slicing through him with a stinging coldness. He raised his arms, trying to protect his head and face, but it was already gone, whipping about Jim before dying.

          "Whoa!" Sandburg barked. "That was weird!"

          Jim's brow furrowed, the Sentinel bothered by something he couldn't find words to describe. And before he could tell his Guide, he saw it – a wolf, watching them with yellow eyes from close by. The big animal was dark gray with black and silver points.

          Blair saw it too, and without thinking, he shifted into his own wolf form, which looked similar to the intruder, albeit lighter in color.

Jim watched the two wolves stare at each other for a long moment, their hackles up, but no teeth showing. He took a step closer to Blair, feeling an unconscious tug to show the intruder that they were together in this.

Then the wolves slowly moved closer, low growls rumbling in their chests.

"Blair," Jim cautioned, "be careful."

The wolves began to snarl at each other, their heads lowering. Jim could feel the tension building and swallowed hard. A moment later, both animals leaped, sharp teeth snapping at each other as they fought.

A wave of protectiveness swept over Jim and, without really thinking about it, he dropped into his own spirit animal form, snarling loudly at the battling wolves. They backed off, their heads still dipped low, their teeth showing.

The panther snarled again, black tail whipping from side to side.

The darker wolf's gaze shifted from Blair to Jim and back again. It took a step backward, then another before it turned and leaped away, disappearing into nothingness.

Jim and Blair both jerked as the world lurched around them. They were back on the construction site, the officers and technicians going about their assigned tasks, no one seeming to notice that two men had disappeared and reappeared right in front of them.

"Okay, now that's what I call _wild_ ," Blair said, shaking his head.

"Won't hear me arguing," Jim said, then frowned. "Chief," he said, and when Blair looked at him, he added, "Your arm."

Sandburg looked down at his sleeve, which had a long rent torn into the fabric. Beneath it, a scratch had left a thin, bloody line on his skin.

"If that's the kind of stuff these workers have been experiencing, I can see why they can't keep a full crew on," Jim said.

"No joke," Blair replied. "I guess we should just be thankful we didn't end up looking like McCouch and the other guy."

"Don't even go there, Chief," Jim warned.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The Oran Institute**

**5:00 p.m.**

 

          Arriving back at the Legacy House, Blair hurried inside to tell Maggie and Sean what had happened to him and Jim at the construction site, but he found them in the library, sitting and talking with an old Native man who looked like he had to be pushing ninety or a hundred.

          "Blair," Maggie greeted him, "come over and meet Mr. Walkingcrow, a Westeskiwin elder. He agreed to come talk to us about the Mt. Glory site."

          Blair walked over and shook hands with the old man, then sat down next to Maggie to listen.

          The old man looked at the three Legacy members, then nodded and said, "We Westeskiwin believe that mountain is a holy place. It was there Raven first had the thought to create the Westeskiwin. He scooped up mud and made the people. Then he flapped his wings and filled their lungs with life and they were alive. He taught them to live on the land, where the salmon was, and the trail to the south where they found food and deer in the summer."

          Maggie leaned forward, watching the old man, but her words were for Blair. "We've shown Mr. Walkingcrow the artifacts that were found at the construction site, and the pictures of the design found on the body."

          "Bodies," Blair corrected her. "Another man was found dead today; same thing as Adam McCouch."

          "There will be many more bodies," the old man warned them. "Many years ago, when gold was found in the rivers, the government decided to get rid of all us Indians. They sent some to Indian Territory in Oklahoma and some were forced to stay on small reservations in the south. But a few tried to hide from the soldiers. They fled to the mountain, and prayed to Raven to help them. Raven showed them where to hide, where to find food and water and healing plants. The army could do nothing to stop them, and they killed the whites who tried to destroy the mountain, looking for their gold.

"There was a shaman, the priests called him Luke, but he was Running Wolf. He was very powerful. That staff you showed me, that was his. I remember my grandfather telling stories about Running Wolf and his staff – he could heal with it, and make the rivers move. Only the most powerful shamans carried the sacred crystals, which were given to the Westeskiwin by beings from beyond the stars. They are our legacy. They give us the ability to overcome every obstacle, defeat every enemy."

          "But your people were defeated," Sean said, although it was clear he meant no disrespect.

          "No, we still survive. Our way of life goes on, and the sacred mountain is still there, still a holy place."

          "Not for much longer," Blair said sadly. "Not if Orin DeLay has his way."

          The old man shook his head. "The construction will be stopped. Running Wolf will see to that."

          "Tell us about this man, Running Wolf," Maggie said.

          "He was young, and very powerful. He and some Westeskiwin hid on the mountain and fought the army for many months. When Running Wolf saw that they would eventually be killed, he prayed to Raven and they struck a bargain. Running Wolf's spirit, and the spirits of the warriors, would remain on the mountain to protect it from the whites. Even if they could not stop the army from driving the People away, the mountain would remain until the Westeskiwin come home.

          "So, as the warriors who stayed with Running Wolf were killed, one by one, by the army, he buried them on the mountain. He used his power to make them guardians of the land, and their spirits rose and killed many, many soldiers. They scared many others.

"At last only Running Wolf remained. He knew his power would be lost if the soldiers killed him and he was not buried in the correct way, so he performed his own burial ritual. Then he took his staff and planted it in the ground and threw himself on the crystal, driving it into his heart. My grandfather said Running Wolf's death set off an earthquake that buried the shaman and sealed his bargain with Raven. A few days later, the soldiers left the mountain, too afraid to fight there any longer.

"But for the Westeskiwin it was too late. We had been sent away from our mountain, but still we knew it was there, waiting for us to return. And one day we will return."

          "And that's why whenever anyone's tried to build on the land, Running Wolf returns to chase them off," Blair said.

          The old man nodded. "Running Wolf was a good man. He would not be killing unless it is the only way to protect the mountain. And he will not stop killing until all the men who want to tear the mountain down leave. That design on the bodies, that is the same design Running Wolf had tattooed on his body – wolf and Raven."

          "Ah!" Blair said, sitting up a little straighter.

          "What?" Maggie asked him.

          Sandburg told them about what had happened to him and Jim at the construction site, only leaving out why it was that they both had spirit animals to shift into. He finished by showing them his shirtsleeve and the scratch on his arm.

          The old man squinted at Blair, studying his face for several seconds before asking, "Are you one of the People?"

          Blair met the old man's gaze as he said, "I'm a quarter Native American, but I don't know which tribe."

          The old man grunted. "You cannot stop Running Wolf. Best you get them to change their minds and find another place to build their houses and shopping malls."

          "Believe me, I'd like to see that as much as you," Blair told him. "But the men who're dying aren't the ones responsible for the construction. They're just trying to do their jobs."

          "So were the soldiers who hunted the Westeskiwin like animals," the old man replied. "Still they died, and eventually their leaders made them leave the mountain. They will leave this time too."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

**  
**

**8:00 p.m.**

 

          Blair stared at Maggie for a long moment, then said, "Let me get this straight; you want me to try to reason with the spirit of a shaman who's killing guys and flaying their bodies in less than twenty minutes?"

          She nodded. "I think you might be able to make Running Wolf understand that times have changed, and that killing the construction workers isn't going to save Mt. Glory. He's not fighting the army in the 1850s any more."

          "Why don't we just wait until John gets back?" Sean asked her. "He's a medium; he's used to talking with spirits of the dead. If Blair's afraid–"

          "I'm not afraid," Sandburg interrupted, then sighed heavily. "Okay, look," he continued, glancing between the two Legacy members, "I don't want to end up like McCouch and that other guy, that's true. But if that wolf I saw was Running Wolf, then I'm not sure I can reason with him. I didn't have any sense that there was a rational intelligence behind the animal I saw."

          "He might not have wanted you to see his true face," the precept offered.

          Blair thought a moment, then nodded. "Okay, I buy that. He gave Jim a pretty close once over, so there was some intelligence there."

          "What if we could get the site vacated?" Maggie asked. "If the immediate threat is removed, maybe Running Wolf would be more inclined to be reasonable."

          "We can do that?" Blair asked.

          "We can try," Maggie replied.

          Blair thought a moment, then nodded. "Okay, maybe that would be enough. But I'll need Jim's help with this."

          "Can't you do anything by yourself?" Sean asked him, his expression deriding. "Ellison's a cop, he's not a member of the Legacy."

          Sandburg fought back an angry retort and forced himself to say calmly, "I do this with Jim, or I don't do it at all."

          "Blair's right. I think it would be best if Detective Ellison were there," Maggie said before the argument could escalate.

          "I thought we weren't supposed to put innocent bystanders at risk," Sean commented.

          "Jim Ellison is hardly an innocent bystander," Maggie answered for Blair, her tone sharp. "If you have another idea, please, tell us what it is."

          Sean's cheeks turned red and he shook his head, then turned and walked out of the library. Blair watched him go, feeling like he'd just seem an alpha female put a member of her pack in his place.

          "What _is_ his problem?" Blair asked when Sean was gone.

          Maggie sighed heavily. "I think he's feeling a little… overshadowed and insecure," she replied. "You see, Blair, you and Sean are very much alike, perhaps too much so, and I think he's afraid that you'll… replace him here."

          "Replace him?" Blair echoed. "But–"

          She patted Sandburg's shoulder. "It's not really for you to worry about," she said. "I'll talk to Sean. Why don't you ask Jim if he'll help you."

          Blair grinned. "I won't have to ask. As soon as I tell him what we're planning to do, he'll volunteer."

          She smiled back. "As a good Sentinel should."

          Blair nodded. He glanced at the library doorway, wondering briefly how he and Sean could possibly be alike.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The loft**

**July 11 th, 7:15 a.m.**

 

          Blair waited until he and Jim were eating breakfast before he told the Sentinel about Running Wolf.

          Ellison looked up from his meal and met his Guide's eyes, then said, "So you're telling me that everything that's been going out there on the site is due to some pissed off ghost?"

          "Yep."

          "Come on, Sandburg," Jim replied, "you don't know that. DeLay's as dirty as they come. This is more likely due to some deal of his going bad than a ghost."

          "Well, there's one way to find out," Blair told him. "I'm planning on going out to the site and see if I can talk to Running Wolf."

          "I don't think that's such a good idea," Ellison replied, a cold knot forming in his stomach. "If it is some spirit killing those men, you saw what it can do."

          "I know, but we're hoping we might be able to convince him to stop killing innocent victims. Times have changed. He can't just scare people off the land any more."

          Jim set his fork down. "You know I can't let you do this alone."

          Blair smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."

          The Sentinel frowned and shot his Guide a sour look. "Why do I suddenly feel like I was set up?"

          Sandburg shrugged. "Hey, what's a Blessed Protector for, if not to watch your back when you're planning on doing something totally insane?"

          "Yeah, right," Jim growled. "Just remember this, you get yourself hurt or killed out there and your Blessed Protector is going to kick your sorry ass, even if I have to find you in some other reality to do it. And when is this going to happen?"

          "This afternoon. Maggie's going to see if she can get the site evacuated. Maybe that'll calm Running Wolf down enough that he'll listen to reason."

          "And you speak this man's language?" Jim asked.

          Blair grinned. "No, but he should speak English. Catholic missionaries had been doing missionary work among the Westeskiwin for at least a decade before they were relocated."

          "Lucky for you."

          "Tell me about it," Blair replied. "Pass the jam, will ya?"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**Major Crimes**

**11:00 a.m.**

 

          "Jim," Simon called from his office doorway, "we need to talk."

          Ellison rose and crossed the bullpen to the captain's office. He entered and closed the door behind him. "What's up?" he asked.

          "I just got a call; another construction worker was found dead on the DeLay site this morning."

          "Damn," Jim breathed. "In the same condition?"

          Simon nodded. "Have you come up with anything that might explain how these men are being killed?"

          Jim sat down. "No, but Sandburg has."

          Simon's eyes rounded slightly. "He did?"

          Ellison passed along Blair's thoughts on Running Wolf and Simon listened. Then the captain leaned back in his chair and shook his head, chuckling softly. "The kid's been watching too much television."

          "I don't know, Simon…" Jim said, trailing off as he shook his head.

          "Oh, come on, Jim, do you really expect me to believe that we've got a hundred and fifty year old ghost running around a construction site, killing people?"

          "Sir, you know as well as I do that things can sometimes get, well, a little weird where Sandburg's concerned."

          Banks took a moment to think about that, then nodded. "I agree, but how the hell am I supposed to tell the Chief that our prime suspect is a ghost? No, better yet, the ghost of an old Indian witchdoctor."

          "I have no idea, sir, but, uh, I guess that's why they pay you the big bucks," Jim replied, trying not to smile.

          "Thanks, Jim, really," Simon replied, flashing the detective a sour look. "You really believe any of this?"

          "I'm not sure," Jim admitted, "but it would explain how it happens so fast."

          "It does?" the captain asked him.

          Ellison shrugged. "Well, I don't really know how, but doesn't it make sense to you that if we're dealing with a ghost, it might be able to kill faster than a human attacker could?"

          "Given the amount of carving done on the bodies… yeah," Banks grudgingly agreed with a sigh. Then he shook his head, saying, "I really hate this ooga-booga shit."

          "You and me both, sir."

          "Hell, you and the kid are almost as weird as the ghost of a shaman running around killing construction workers."

          "But just 'almost'," Jim replied.

          "So, what can we do about it, if Sandburg's right?"

Jim hesitated, just long enough for Simon to notice it.

"What?" he demanded. "You and Sandburg are planning something, aren't you. What is it?"

          "Blair wants to try and reason with Running Wolf."

          "Reason with a dead man?"

          "I told him I'd be there to help."

          "When?" Simon asked with a sigh.

          "This afternoon, out at the site."

          Banks scowled. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

          "Hell no, but I didn't have a better one. Do you?"

          "I wish I did."

          "So do I. The site's going to be evacuated and then we'll go see what we can do."

          "You want some back-up?"

          Jim grinned. "No, thanks anyway. Besides, how would you cuff a ghost?"

          "Just be careful," Simon pleaded.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

  1. **Glory** **construction site**



**4:30 p.m.**

 

          Jim and Blair left Maggie and Sean standing at the precept's Land Rover and started walking across the empty construction site. His attention focused this time, Blair was able to sense the change when the spirit arrived, an icy wind that licked around their bodies before rising to a howl that swept them into the same space they'd been in before.

          Blair glanced around, then said, "I get it! This must be what the area looked like a hundred and fifty years ago."

          Jim took a step closer to his Guide, asking, "And this helps us how?"

          Blair turned to look at him. "I don't know, probably not at all."

          Jim resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. "What next, Chief?"

          "Uh, I'm not sure," Blair said. "I guess we take the direct approach." He glanced around again, then called, "Hey, Running Wolf! We need to talk to you!"

          They waited for several long seconds, then the wind picked up again, howling around them.

          "Come on!" Blair yelled. "We just want to talk!"

          The wind died down and the dark-colored wolf was standing nearby, watching them.

          Blair took a deep breath and started, "Look, we know who you are, and why you're doing what you're doing, but you need to understand, things are different now. Killing innocent construction workers isn't going to protect this mountain."

          The wolf cocked its head to the side slightly, gold eyes locked on Sandburg's.

          "Keep talking," Jim prompted, keeping a close watch on the animal in case it tried to attack his Guide. "It looks like it's listening to you."

          Sandburg took a deep breath and continued, "Listen, I appreciate that you want to keep this place safe, that it's a holy place. But things now are really different. You have to stop people like DeLay in the courts. He's the one behind this, not the men who work for them. They're just trying to making a living and provide for their families." He paused, trying to decide if the wolf understood a single word he'd said. "Are you getting any of this?" he asked the creature.

          The wolf shimmered briefly and a man stood in its place. His chest was tattooed, and he wore buckskin pants and shoes. "When enough have died, they will leave."

          Blair shook his head. "No, they won't. DeLay will just hire more men to replace the ones you kill or scare away. You can't stop the building by killing."

          Running Wolf looked from Blair to Jim and back again. "You are his shaman?" he asked Sandburg, but he jerked his chin in Jim's direction.

          Blair's eyes rounded slightly, but he nodded, saying, "Yes. I was told I was shaman to the city. And Jim is the Sentinel of the city, of Cascade."

          Running Wolf looked out over the land where, in Jim and Blair's time, Cascade spread out. He looked half-confused and half-annoyed. "Things are very different now."

          "Yes," Blair agreed, "they are. And I'm sorry about what's happening to this land, but you're killing innocent men for no reason."

          "This is where our people were created, where Raven gave us life."

          "I know," Blair replied, "but you're not just fighting the army this time. It's progress, and time, and greed."

          Running Wolf met Blair's gaze and held it. "I cannot allow them to desecrate this land."

          "But you can't stop them," Blair argued.

          "I will."

          "How?" Blair demanded. "There are a lot more people here now than there were in the 1850s. You can't kill us all."

          Running Wolf scowled. "I will kill as many as I have to," he stated, but Sandburg could see the worry and uncertainty in the shaman's eyes.

          "Why did you attack me before?"

          "I did not recognize you. When I saw the Sentinel for what he is, and I knew you were his Guide, his shaman, I saw you for who you really are and knew I could not harm you."

          That wasn't the answer Sandburg had expected and he hesitated. Then he played a hunch. "You had a Sentinel with you, didn't you. He was the reason you could fight the army for as long as you did."

          "Yes," the spirit agreed. "Kicks the Wind was like him, a protector of the People, a Sentinel." The Running Wolf's head jerked to the right and he stared intently into the trees.

          "What is it?" Jim asked the ghost.

          "There is someone else here," Running Wolf stated.

          "That's just Maggie and Sean," Blair assured the spirit. "They're my friends. They want to help you."

          "No," the shaman said, "there is another… It is DeLay." And in a flash the spirit was gone.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Maggie and Sean watched as Jim and Blair were wrapped in a dust devil, disappearing when it died away.

          "Where are they?" Sean asked her, starting to take a step toward the spot where they had stood.

          "Wherever Running Wolf took them," she replied, reaching out to stop him. She frowned when she heard the sound of another car approaching. A few moments later a silver BMW pulled up next to the Land Rover and Jim's truck and a man climbed out, stalking angrily over join the two Legacy members.

          "What the hell are you doing out here?" Orin DeLay demanded. "Where is my crew?"

          "Mr. DeLay?" Maggie guessed.

          "Tell me what's going on!" the man snapped.

          The precept opened her mouth to speak, but Sean's softly whispered, "Oh shit," stopped her. A moment later DeLay disappeared into an eruption of dust that exploded up from the ground.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "Running Wolf?" Blair called, looking around the space.

          "Where'd he go?" Jim asked.

          "I don't know, but I don't like it."

          A moment later the spirit of the shaman returned. "It is done," he stated. "Kill the slaves and the master will soon come to see why."

          "What're you talking about?" Jim demanded.

          "The land is safe now," the shaman assured them. "My bargain is honored."

          "DeLay," Blair stated. "He's dead, isn't he."

          Running Wolf nodded. Then he reached out and rested a hand on Blair's shoulder, speaking to him in Westeskiwin.

          "I don't understand," Sandburg told him.

          The shaman frowned. "You should learn the language of your fathers."

          "My fathers?" Blair echoed.

Running Wolf looked to Jim, saying, "I cannot fight you. If you want to bind me, you can."

"I just want the killing to stop," Jim said.

"It is done," the spirit said.

"Were you a Guide?" Blair asked the ghost.

Running Wolf smiled at Sandburg, and then he was gone, disappearing into a blinding blaze of white light. Blair and Jim were standing at the construction site, Maggie and Sean nearby, looking down at the mutilated body of Orin Delay.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

**The Oran Institute**

**July 12 th, 9:30 a.m.**

 

          Jim followed Blair into the library, shaking his head. "Tell me again why you're still living in the loft?"

          "I think it might have something to do with the company, Detective," Maggie offered.

          Jim smiled, but his cheeks turned rosy. "This place is really amazing," he told her.

          "Yes, it is lovely," Maggie agreed. "But I doubt you came all the way out here for a tour."

          Jim shook his head. "No. I wanted to pass along some news."

          "On the construction?" Blair asked, realizing for the first time that he hadn't asked Jim why he was there; he'd been too excited about showing the Sentinel the House.

          "Yeah," Jim said, watching as Mrs. MacRae came carrying with a tray with coffee and pasties. He fixed himself a cup and chose a bearclaw before continuing. "First, the DA has decided to chalk up DeLay's death to person or persons unknown."

          "And his project here in Cascade?" Blair asked him.

          "The project's being opened to bids from other contractors. It's going forward."

          "Hopefully whoever ends up with it will do it right," Blair concluded.

          "And Mt. Glory?" Maggie asked.

          "That's the interesting thing," Sean interrupted from his seat behind the computer. "The publicity all this has generated has raised awareness of the Westeskiwin claims to the land, and their pending appeal. The Court announced this morning that they'll hear the case next week, but the buzz says it's a done deal; the Indians are getting their mountain back."

          Blair smiled. "That's great!"

          Jim nodded. "I heard on the radio on the way over that a spokesmen for the tribe has already announced that if the Westeskiwin get their land back, they want Mr. Glory to stay a state park."

          "He did it," Blair said softly. "Running Wolf saved his sacred mountain."

          "Don't you mean 'your' sacred mountain?" Jim asked his Guide.

          "Huh?" Sandburg replied.

          "Yesterday, Chief, Running Wolf said the mountain was where 'our people' were created, and then he told you that you should learn the language of 'your fathers', remember?"

          Blair hesitated a moment. "Uh, I was so caught up in what was going on, I wasn't paying that much attention to every word he said…"

          "That does sound suggestive," Maggie agreed, "although I suppose he might have been speaking one shaman to another."

          Jim shrugged. "Maybe. It just struck me as kind of interesting."

          "We can find out," Sean said, meeting Blair's surprised gaze. "We've still got all the data on the Westeskiwin downloaded onto the mainframe."

          Sandburg puffed out a breath and said, "Well, okay. My father was half-Native American."

          "What was his name?" Sean asked him.

          "John Lonetree," Blair supplied.

          "Give me a minute," Sean said, beginning to type.

          Jim and Blair exchanged a look, both remembering how they had met Sandburg's father.

          "Okay, that was easy," Sean said a moment later. "John Lonetree, son of Edward Lonetree and Rachel Glasgow, both of whom were on the rolls of the Southern Westeskiwin… Edward's grandfather was part of the relocation–"

          "Wait," Blair interrupted. "Rachel _Glasgow_ is on the Westeskiwin rolls? That doesn't sound like an Indian name to me."

          "Yep," Sean replied. "Hold on… Rachel Glasgow, daughter of Charles Glasgow and Elizabeth…"

          "What?" Blair asked when Sean trailed off, staring at the monitor. He stepped around and peered over the younger man's shoulder. His eyes rounded with surprise and he breathed, "Ohmygod, I don’t believe it. This can't be right. No way."

          "What?" Jim asked him.

          Blair looked up, meeting his Sentinel's eyes. "Elizabeth Runningwolf, her grandfather was one Luke Runningwolf – killed by the US Army, 1851."

          "The ghost?" Jim asked, his own eyes widening.

          "Yeah, I think so," Blair said. "I'm his, what, great-great-great-grandson?"

          "Yeah, I think that's it," Sean said. "Four generations back. And look at this, there's an elder listed on the current Southern Westeskiwin website by the name of Joseph Lonetree. He's probably related to your father."

          "This is too weird," Blair said, shaking his head.

          "Oh, I don't think so," Maggie replied. "It just means that your blood runs true – shamans on both sides of the family, and look at you."

          Sandburg looked to Jim, speechless for the first time in a long time. Ellison laughed.

 

[1] Forthcoming from Neon RainBow Press.

 

The End


End file.
